


Unfaithful Lover, Long Since Dead

by storm_queen



Category: Hocus Pocus (1993)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Infidelity, ToT: Monster Mash, trick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8214806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_queen/pseuds/storm_queen
Summary: “Don’t you want to play with me, Billy?” Sarah pouted. She hummed a little then, a melody Billy half-remembered hearing Winifred whistle before.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/gifts).



> Dear anaraine,
> 
> I hope you enjoy your story! It was such a treat to be able to write for Hocus Pocus - but I went with a 'trick' instead. ;)

_Some years earlier_

Winifred Sanderson was twenty-six, outside the most marriageable age, and most of the men in Salem had long since dismissed her for her sharp nose and sharper tongue. But these very traits made her more attractive to Billy. Without a farm or family, he could aspire only to the life of a store clerk, living in rented rooms and eating meals at the tavern. He had no use for the most eligible daughters of the town, whose every desires were granted immediately by a host of suitors, and who gave him not a second glance. But Billy could find use for a third of Sanderson’s acreage, and he was surprised to learn that he enjoyed Winnie’s venomous tongue and withering glare - when they were not directed at himself.

He had taken her out walking once, and then again, until their walks had been customary for weeks. All of the town knew they were courting. And one day, just out of sight of the Sanderson house, Billy stopped Winifred as she drew in her breath to begin some sort of diatribe.

“Marry me,” he said. “Your father has given us his blessing.”

Winifred stopped, looked at him, then cast her eyes heavenward. “And what good is his blessing, when I am cursed with two sisters still too young for household duties?” she asked. 

Billy was taken aback. Even for Winifred, hardly a paragon of womanly virtues, these were serious words indeed. If the reverend had heard them - “Burdened, perhaps, but not _cursed_ , Winifred...”

“A curse they are, and a curse they will be to me until I die. And possibly after,” she added tartly. Since her mother’s death in the spring, Winifred had taken on the care of her sisters, and she worked for them and worried for them as if she had borne them herself. It was true they were young, and Sarah especially had been weak and feeble with the same illness that took their mother. Billy knew Winifred's devotion to the younger girls, and he was prepared to accept that.

“I would not tear you from your sisters or your home,” he told her in all earnestness. “Nothing need change, save an extra pair of hands to help you in your work.”

“My father fears I shall never marry, and he’s right in that,” Winifred said. Her eyes were off in the distance now, back to her father's house. “To think that he should die without a son, and his oldest daughter a common scold! For that, he would give my hand to any man asking.”

She glanced back at Billy then, her cheeks a dull red to match her hair. “No. I’ll not marry you or anyone.”

The announcement had a ring of finality to it, and he knew Winnie enough to know that he would not change her mind. And yet. “Will you walk with me still, Winifred?” he asked, knowing too that he would miss her company if they parted.

“I’ll walk with you while you walk with no other woman,” she agreed. And with that, they continued to walk together, and no more was said of marriage.

\---

_Some years later_

The house was oddly quiet, free from the usual bustle of sweeping and cooking up stews. It was mid-morning, and the sunlight shining through the window cast a pattern along the cottage wall. Billy's gaze followed the sun, until his eyes landed on Sarah, wearing nothing but the light and shadow.

“Hi, Billy,” Sarah said, wiggling her fingers. They weren’t the only things that wiggled.

Billy stared, for he had no choice in the matter. “Winifred - and Mary - ” he stammered. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt alive in a way that was deep and shameful, here in the presence of his lover’s sister. His skin crawled. He felt as though it was going to burst.

“They’ve gone for toadstools,” Sarah said. “I told them I’d keep you company if you came by. And I will.” She smiled.

“This is shameful, Sarah,” Billy said, finally averting his eyes as his sense returned to him. “You should cover yourself. I - I’ll go.”

“Don’t!” Sarah exclaimed. Billy felt a surge of heat rush through his body, and he looked back at her to see her pointing those same slender fingers at him. The smell of lightning and summer storms was in the air. But it was May yet, too early for the summer storms. It was as though she had - as though she had cast a - 

“Don’t you want to play with me, Billy?” Sarah pouted. A shudder traveled up Billy's spine, though he was still flushed and intoxicated by the sight of her nakedness. She hummed a little then, a melody Billy half-remembered hearing Winifred whistle before. _Come now, my lover..._ Sarah’s voice was soft and sweet where Winnie’s was shrill, and Billy took a step toward her before he remembered to _fight it._

“Sarah, your sister - ” he tried, but Sarah closed the gap still between them, put a finger to his lips and shushed him.

“I’m much more fun to play with,” she said. And God help him, she was.

He stopped resisting as she took him by the hand and tugged him to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as they went. He was hard put to tell whether or not she was working magic on him then. It could have been the simple magic of a woman, open and offering herself to him freely, where Winifred was secrets and bargains. It could have been the softness of her hair and skin, where Winifred was rough and sharp. It could have been his own wicked heart, beating in his chest so fast he thought he might die then and there, knowing he was already a lost soul.

\---

_Some hours later_

He didn’t die then, but he did die there. Sarah was intoxicating, and as she wrung the life from him bit by bit, he was unable to recover enough to move, even had he come back to his own self and realized in whose bed he had lain. Exhausted, he slept heavy and long, until the shadows crossed the walls and floor of the cottage and daylight had gone. He was woken by a hand under his head and a bowl at his lips. 

“Drink this.”

He drank automatically, and the hot liquid tasted of beef and mushroom, with an undercurrent of something sweet he could not name. It was only then that he opened his eyes and saw Winnie.

“Surprise,” she said, smiling much too wide, and he realized he was still naked. He reached hastily for the quilt.

“Oh, don’t bother covering yourself up, we’ve all seen it before,” said Winifred. “Well, except for Mary.” A titter from the room told Billy that all the Sanderson sisters were present. He tried to scramble to his feet, but he was hit with such a wracking pain that he dropped back down to the bed immediately, doubled over and clutching his bowels.

“It has quite a kick, doesn’t it, Billy?” Winifred asked, still smiling brightly. “Sarah told us this morning that she had seen some toadstools, and I knew they would do just the trick.”

“But - but- why…” Billy gasped for air. His brow and lip beaded with sweat, and quickly his whole body shook with convulsions.

“It’s quite simple,” Winifred said. “You know too much. You see, none of us are getting any younger. Not without a little help. And we can’t have anyone spoiling our plans.”

Billy wanted to make sense of it, to put it all together, but he was fast losing control of his thoughts along with his body. What secrets could he tell? That he suspected - no, _knew_ \- they were practicing witchcraft? But who would believe him? _Billy Butcherson, good-for-naught, turned down even by Winifred Sanderson._

“In fact, you won’t be telling anyone our little secrets. Even in death,” Winnie said brightly. She was moving toward him again, reaching for his face, holding not a bowl of soup but a needle and thread. 

Billy’s vision left him before the needle pierced his skin, but the pain was more terrible even than the death cramps. Billy screamed, and knew no more.

\---

_And some years later still_

Lost soul though he was, who sported out of wedlock and died by a poisoner’s hand, Billy was buried in hallowed ground. It was quiet there, because most of the souls in the cemetery had long since departed for the next stage. It was quiet enough for Billy to sleep for three hundred years, until Winifred’s words dragged him from his grave.

Now, laying himself back down to sleep, Billy thought that he too might pass to the next stage. He had no more unfinished business. Perhaps this was the end, or maybe it could be a new beginning.


End file.
